


anywhere with you feels like paris in the rain

by lesbinej



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon, also swearing ig, only rated bc of one sex joke, redeemed!catra, soft, u pick it up along the way but its a year after s1 ends, uwu i love gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16681111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbinej/pseuds/lesbinej
Summary: Catra’s never seen the bath here, before, and Adora’s making it a point to show her.





	anywhere with you feels like paris in the rain

Adora ducks behind the pale pink curtain, letting the translucent silk slip over her legs comfortingly. Catra’s never seen the bath here, before, and Adora’s making it a point to show her.

“Come onnnnn, it’ll be great. You’re gonna love it,” Adora encourages, since Catra’s still lurking somewhere in her room. Probably shredding the pillows again. When Catra had seen the bed Adora had given up for the one she has now, her eyes had practically popped out of her head.

“You _idiot,”_ she’d shrieked, delighted. “You could’ve had _this?_ And you _wanted_ that?”

“Yeah,” Adora had mumbled, a little embarrassed. “It just… it was weird. I didn’t like it.”

Catra had curled up next to her, then, and propped her elbow on Adora’s chest. “God, Princess. You had it all, and you just threw it away.” She’d sighed dramatically. “Some things don’t change, huh?”

“No, they don’t.”

Now, Catra peeks inside of the bathroom—well, room is a loose and ill-fitting word for it. More like a _hall._ Or an _atrium._ It’s some fancy word that Glimmer might know, but Adora doesn’t. All she knows is—there’s waterfalls, deep basins for floating, perfume in the air, flower petals for long soaks, and comfort in the air in here. Adora takes in a deep breath—this is her favorite place in Bright Moon, after all. Besides her bed. And Glimmer’s room. And the dining hall. And the training deck. Basically, she just loves Bright Moon, and she’s _so_ excited that now, Catra can love it, too.

“This is the surprise?” Catra asks, her voice a little… disappointed? Sarcastic? Adora doesn’t know, but it’s _not_ the reaction she wanted. She pouts a little, making sure Catra can see her.

“You didn’t even give it a chance,” she whines. “Please?”

Catra rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth quirk into a smile. “Fine, Adora. Whatever.”

Adora grins and tugs Catra in with her, sidling along the tile to the edge of the first pool.

“This is a salt bath, okay? It’s to clean off all the grime and relax you for the next baths.”

“A bath?” Catra looks at her quizzically. “Are we supposed to get undressed?”

Adora flushes. “Well, normally, yes, but I wasn’t going to make you—”

Catra punches her arm. “What, you were just gonna take baths in your _clothes?_ God, Adora—you fuckin’ loser.”

“Well—usually we’d have these wraps, but Glimmer wasn’t here today and I didn’t know who else to ask for them…” Adora bites her lip, remembering the linen underclothing they’d worn in the springs in Mystacor.

“Well, isn’t that just too bad…” Catra steps back, examining the entrance alcove. The curtains sway on the opposite side of her, their light weight allowing them to be disturbed by Catra’s tail so much as twitching near them. Adora’s about to ask what she’s looking for, when Catra’s mismatched eyes gleam with triumph, and she runs her hand along the intricate carvings on the wall.

“Catra, that’s—” Catra’s claws close over a particular convex shape that Adora hadn’t noticed before, and she pulls the whole thing open, revealing a cabinet of linen and towels. “—exactly what we’re looking for.”

Catra exchanges a smug glance with Adora, and the tosses her one of the linens. Adora barely grabs it before it falls into the water lapping around her ankles.

“You first, princess.”

Adora huffs. Sure, if Catra wants to play this game, then whatever’s next is her fault. Adora shucks her jacket and throws it onto the tile at Catra’s feet. She barely glances at Catra’s shocked face before (and hiding her deepening scarlet cheeks) throwing her shirt next to it. Then, she pulls the tie from her hair that keeps it up, letting all of her blonde waves tumble down. Now, she looks at Catra.

“Are you staring at my breasts?” Adora doesn’t know if she’s humiliated, smug, or upset. Honestly, it might be all three. Catra’s eyes snap back to Adora’s own.

“No!” Catra says defensively. Adora crosses her arms.

“Uh—huh.”

“No, I wasn’t, I _swear—_ Adora, I—” God, with the way Catra’s now a darker shade of red than Adora is, this might just have been a doomed plan from the start.  Adora’s lips twist into a scowl, one that Catra mimics immediately. “God, Adora, do you think I’m a perv?”

Now Adora flushes in embarrassment. “What am I supposed to think, Catra?”

Catra’s tail twitches irritably. “That I was staring at your _arms?_ Duh.”

Adora drops her defensive stance immediately. “Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘cause your biceps are, like, twice the size that they were when you left. It’s a little hot.”

Adora laughs. “God, Catra—you’re not gonna stare at my breasts, but my arms are hot?”

“Well, do you _want_ me to stare at your—”

“No!” Adora snaps. “I didn’t—”

Catra laughs, cutting short Adora’s every thought. “Just get undressed.”

“You’re the boss,” Catra snickers, unclasping her belt. “No more than two fingers, okay?”

Adora puffs out an exasperated breath. Sometimes talking to Catra feels like… well, it feels like herding cats. _“You know what I meant, Catra!”_

Catra just laughs, and Adora turns around so she doesn’t have to repeat the same awkward conversation, instead stripping off the rest of her underclothes and pulling on the linen as quickly as she could. When she turns around, Catra wears a matching one, her old Horde uniform on the floor.

“Wait, one thing,” Adora says, frowning. She crosses the distance between them and plucks the helmet that’s framed her face for as long as Adora can remember off, discarding it on the floor with the rest of their clothes. Catra’s bangs fall into her face, poofed up and sticking out from God knows how long spent tucked down. Catra snorts in irritation.

“Done?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

Adora takes Catra’s wrist and turns, starting to lead them towards the salt bath. She can’t wait to just sink into the water, letting the warmth of it hold her, cradle her as she lets her worries fall away.

To be honest, she has trouble being in here by herself. The stuffiness of the steam gets suffocating, and she’s not good at relaxing (according to Glimmer, anyways). But the baths smell _amazing,_ and Adora really likes the _idea_ of coming in here and melting away in the perfume oil and petal baths. It never happens that way, since after the war, Glimmer’s pretty much always busy in some far corner of Etheria, and Bow’s usually with her. Not that Adora minds—they visit pretty often, and she has Catra again. But this is Adora’s first time back in the baths since they were rebuilt (there was an unfortunate mishap a few weeks ago that led to the entire east wing of the castle being renovated), and this time, she knows she’s just going to pass right out in Catra’s arms. The water looks so nice…

Catra’s fingers around Adora’s wrist tighten. Adora glances over her shoulder—and sees a look of devastation spread across her features.

“Catra?” Adora asks, but her voice feels hollow. Like she already knows what comes next.

“Your… your back.” Catra’s hand falls out of Adora’s grasp, and she starts to reach out, like she wants to touch it. Touch _them._ But then Catra snatches her hand back like the air burned her.

“The scars.” Adora knows, knows from the way Catra’s looking between her eyes and her back like there must be a mistake, there must be something wrong, because Adora _can’t_ still have wounds from their battles over a year ago.

Catra nods, slowly, like she’s still processing it. She probably is, honestly— _Adora’s_ still processing it, and she’s the one that has to look at those red lines on her cheek, on her back, on her arms and everywhere else that Catra hurt her.

“I… I did that to you.” It’s not a question, and it doesn’t shy away from the weight of the wounds.

Adora looks down at the water. She swallows back every protestation, everything she wants to say to avoid the weight of the truth (because Catra doesn’t need to be protected, and she doesn’t need Adora to coddle her). “...Yeah.”

“Adora, I—I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Adora says, offering a reassuring smile. “I can’t say it’s _okay,_ but I know. And I forgive you.”

Catra mirrors Adora’s smile, but it looks fake, on her. Maybe Catra just isn’t one for reassurance. Maybe she doesn’t believe Adora—and _that’s_ what makes Adora worried. Catra doesn’t need Adora’s protection, but sometimes, she’s stubborn to swallow the idea that she matters. She matters so _much,_ and it hurts to see that sometimes, Catra would rather get smaller and smaller until she didn’t exist at all.

“Hey,” Adora tries, reaching out for Catra again. “I would’ve done the same thing, okay? It’s—It’s not like we weren’t bound to hurt each other.” She’s doing everything she can to avoid saying ‘it’s okay,’ because it’s _not._ It’s not okay that they hurt each other and it’s not okay that she had to fight her _best fucking friend,_ and she wants that to be clear. But that wasn’t Catra’s fault. And it wasn’t Adora’s, either. That was a heavy thing for her to grapple with, at first—that maybe it wasn’t her fault that Catra had to suffer for her. Maybe none of it was her fault, and she’d been a victim just the same. A victim of the cruel thing called fate, or destiny, or whatever the fuck Adora wanted to call it that day. Sometimes, it’s just ‘dumb sword.’

Catra smirks a little, but Adora can see the tears, see the guilt and shame. “Right, because you have claws.” Adora doesn’t let her expression waver, and Catra sighs. “You didn’t do the same, Adora. You got out. You tried to take me with you, and I didn’t go, because I was _scared,_ because I was angry and betrayed and a hundred other things and I didn’t know if I trusted you—but I ended up _hurting_ you, Adora, and that—” Catra chokes on the words, or maybe just the amount of sincerity being dragged out of her. “That was worse. That was a hundred times worse than anything Shadow Weaver did.”

Adora doesn’t know how to respond—how can she? Her best friend is in tears, for the first time that Adora’s ever seen, and honestly, Adora never thought she’d see Catra so vulnerable, so weak, so completely trusting of Adora.

_Weak,_ whispers Shadow Weaver’s voice, deep in her head.

_No,_ Adora responds with the confidence of a girl who broke the Horde, scattered them like dust in the wind, drove them apart with her holy sword that cleansed their tainted presence from the darkest crevices of their world. _Brave. Strong. Beautiful._

“You chose the right thing in the end, Catra. I always believed in you.” Adora offers a smile and nothing more as she starts to wade further out into the water.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe all that faith and love bullshit is starting to get to your head.”

There she is. The sarcastic, fond Catra that Adora loves so much.

“Come on, the water’s gonna get cold.” Adora sinks down to her knees, letting the warm water relax her. It already feels so much easier to slip into a state of bliss and serenity, letting the salt pull every worry and every anxiety out of her pores and into the water where it can be washed away.

“It’s magically heated, Adora. Unless you’re telling me magic doesn’t exist.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Kitty.” Adora laughs, reaching up to grab both of Catra’s hands. “Lie down in it, it feels _amazing.”_

“Yeah, okay. Just for you, you know,” Catra grumbles, her tail curling up around her arm as she takes Adora’s hand and sinks down to her knees, then sits on her feet. Adora waits, both of her hands clasping Catra’s, as she waits for a reaction.

Catra rolls her head, cracking her neck. She looks thoughtful. “Yeah, this isn’t so bad, I guess. I probably wouldn’t do this if it was just me, though.”

Adora leans against Catra’s side. “To be honest? Me neither. But it’s nice when you have company.”

Catra snorts. “You being mushy again?”

“Maybe I am. What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna drown you in this healing salt water, is what I’m gonna do.” Catra shoves her, causing Adora to lose her balance and fall fully into the water.

Adora pops her head above the surface, breathing heavily. Catra had caught her off guard, but it wouldn’t happen again. She splashes Catra, laughing at Catra’s hissing.

“Is that so?”

Catra blows a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Idiot.”

“Punk,” Adora shoots back. Catra looks mortally offended at the insult.

“Okay, what’s next? I feel pretty clean.” Catra steps out of the water and shakes, spattering Adora with salty droplets. Adora steps out next to her.

“The perfume baths. You can pick your favorite—the smell takes _forever_ to come out.”

Adora follows as Catra sidles along the tile surrounding the salt bath, making her way over the the arch that leads into the next bath—Adora’s personal favorite, the peach blossom one. Catra sniffs the air, and Adora tries not to get her hopes up as Catra pauses for a moment, probably deciding if it’s worth stopping here.

“Honestly, I just don’t want to keep walking,” Catra says after a moment, and slides into the water. Adora claps her hands giddily and dips in after her.

“This one’s my favorite,” Adora sighs, curling up against Catra in the water.

“Of course it is, you dumb softie.” Catra’s hand catches Adora’s elbow, and the two sit for a moment, revelling in the warm water and gentle scent of flowers tickling their noses. “So… what now?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all!” Adora grins. “That’s the best part. We can sit here as long as we want and nobody can stop us, because that’s what these baths are _for.”_ Adora doesn’t stop the triumphant note to her voice from bleeding through.

Catra snorts. “Okay, weirdo.” She stretches, leaning back against the edge of the basin. “This is… kinda nice, actually.”

“It sure is,” Adora agrees readily. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Catra drawls, probably thinking on the spot. “That I could get used to this.”

Adora takes one of Catra’s hands in her own, leaning against her shoulder, twining their legs together.

“Not bad for two Horde cadets, huh?”

Catra purrs. “Not bad at all, Adora.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing ive written for she-ra (but not the first IDEA ive worked out for it, so stay tuned), so my characterization might be a little wonky uwu like and subscribe


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